Dear Victoria
by Megera
Summary: (CATS) A short little fic, basically a letter to Victoria from her father


Disclaimer: There are many things I don't own. Cats and Cats characters are two very fine examples. They belong to RUG, ALW, TSE and all other applicable parties.

Note: This is kind of a strange little fic, but there aren't a whole lot of stories from this character's POV so I thought I'd give it a whirl.

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Dear Victoria

Dear Victoria,

As I write the beginning of this letter, my mind is on the end. How shall I close? Should I be formal? Simply sign my name? How can I do that, when this letter must be so personal? The only other option I can think of doesn't seem quite right either. While it would be true enough, it would surely be arrogant to give myself that title, that precious name you have already given to another.

I see that I am not getting anywhere, so I shall worry about the end at the end and start again at the beginning.

Dear Victoria,

Jenny let me know that she would be telling you. It seems appropriate enough, you are growing up. I saw you at the ball, Jenny tells me you did the opening dance. I am sorry to have missed it. You are growing into such a lovely young queen. I am very proud of you. But I digress.

When Jenny came to me, I considered what I should say to you. Then I decided that simply writing my feelings was a wiser choice. I am not very good with words, especially when my emotions start to interfere. I hope I word all of this right.

I considered everything that might be going through your mind. Anger, I think, is something that you would be feeling. Towards your mother, towards me, towards Skimble, perhaps? If your are going to be angry, please be angry me. Jenny and Skimble are not to blame. Let me start at the beginning.

Your mother and I were always friends. We were playmates, actually. I met Skimbleshanks through your mother and though we were friendly, we were never very close. We were from very different worlds, Skimble and I, opposite ends of the spectrum. Your mother was our only bridge. 

I have had. . . feelings for your mother for a very long time. What cat my age hasn't? With her lovely smile and gentle spirit, she draws everyone to her. Although we have always been close, I knew that she did not return my affections. She and Skimble were and are madly in love, I could see that. I swallowed my feelings and did my best not to interfere. 

Your mother adored Skimble and still does, of course, but if he has a fault, it is his absence. Skimble's love of the rails is second only in his love for Jenny. He is gone very often, as you well know. 

Your mother and Skimble have had trouble having kits. Jenny's most recent pregnancy had gone well, however, and Skimble felt it was safe to go back to the trains for a time. He was gone for several weeks due to problems with one of the engines. During this time, Jenny miscarried. Without Skimble, she came to see me for support. What happened was simply the result of two lonely cats caught up in the moment, neither of us ment for it to happen. We agreed not to keep it from Skimble. We would tell him together when he returned.

Skimbleshanks is truly the finest of cats. He was not at all angry, only upset that he had been away when Jenny had needed him. He told me there were no hard feelings, to think nothing of it. That was what I had planned to try to do.

That became impossible when Jenny realized she was pregnant. I told her and Skimble I would step aside, leaving them to raise the kit. It pained me to do so, but I thought it the wisest course of action. It would complicate matters far to much to share a child between the three of us, and Jenny and Skimble have yearned for children for so long.

You were born one gloriously sunny day. Pure white, like a little cloud. You look quite a bit like my own mother, actually. Jenny and Skimble beamed with pride as I got my first glimpse of you. "Her name is Victoria", Jenny told me, glowing.

Your mother's victory. Victoria. Such a strong name. Such a lovely name. Such a suiting name for a lily like you.

I could not exclude myself completely from you life. I remained in the shadows, looking, but never touching. I used my influence to find you humans that could provide well for you. This was the most tangible gift I could offer. I satisfied myself knowing that you were well cared for and happy. I knew you would be happy, Jenny and Skimble loved you too much for you not to be.

It has been very for me difficult to be so absent from your life. I hope I was doing what was best for you. Now that you know the truth, I hope you understand, at least a little. I don't want you to be angry at Jenny or Skimble or myself for that matter, but I can understand if you are. Perhaps, if you would care to, we could get to know each other better. I would like that very much.

Now here I am at the end, with no idea of how to close. I thought perhaps the answer would become clear as this letter progressed, but it seems I will have no such luck.

How to end, how to end.

I think I shall close with "yours" because it is the truth. I am yours, but what of yours is for you to decide. I shall sign my name as well, I think, and what relationship you want to make of it is up to you. You know my feelings, I hope, in time to gain a better understanding of your own. 

Thank you, Victoria, for a chance to speak.

Yours,

Bustopher Jones

~end~


End file.
